


I’m a Brand New Sky (to hang the stars upon tonight)

by Apsacta



Series: Cover (me with love) [2]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Gen, thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apsacta/pseuds/Apsacta
Summary: “That’s what friends are for, right?”(they say that time erodes everything, but love is a hard rock to grind down)
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: Cover (me with love) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803088
Comments: 23
Kudos: 63





	I’m a Brand New Sky (to hang the stars upon tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> 30 minutes. One song. Unedited. 
> 
> It's not really about twoset (it's just me, thanking you).

∞ **[Times Like These](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOMaUrsdvrE)**[(Foo Fighters Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOMaUrsdvrE) – Lucy May Walker ∞

It comes in waves, ebb and flows inside his brain, a river in spade, a tide that floods his heart, unexpected, unpredictable, threatening to pull him under with the strength of its depth, leaving him helpless, caught in a frozen lake, triggered by the tiniest of memories sometimes, words and smells and photographs. Then it goes out, abrupt like it has come, brine and wet patterns ready to be erased by sunshine as only reminders of the storm that has preceded them, and soon enough it’s hazy skies and silent waters, bright afternoons by the coast and clear horizons.

They say that time erodes everything, but pain is a hard rock to grind down.

It’s hard sometimes, to watch his friend get lost in the meanders of his brain, to see his shoulders drop, to be greeted by clouded eyes and foggy words and guess that today’s going to be a rainy day. It’s not funny, to bear witness to returning clouds, but he’s promised himself, on that day when he held his hand in silence, to always be there, clear sky above stormy seas.

He’s made and broken more promises than he cares to count, over the years ( _we’ll do a livestream for 500k, at 2Mil we call our subscribers again, 40k and we’ll…)_ but this one he intends to keep.

With the years, he’s gotten better at picking the little clues. He knows him well enough by now. They’ve spent half their lives together, after all. And it’s easier now than when they were apart, easier than when he had to pick up subtle voice changes over the phone.

Sometimes they talk.

Sometimes they don’t.

It’s not always needed. When you know someone that well, words become superfluous. It’s his presence, more than anything, that helps. He doesn’t need big declarations that would ring empty anyway. Why would he say ‘ _I’ll always be there_ ’, when he can just quietly sit next to him, rest a hand on his wrist, and smile. He doesn’t need to say, he just needs to give.

His repertoire of little gestures expends with time.

It starts with boba, because ay, how could it be anything else? He’s memorized his order a long time ago, orders two out of habit, and there’s a light. No words needed. Easy.

He’s gotten him other things, through the years, plushies and trinkets and other dumb stuff, but it’s not always the material things that work the best. He can give him things, it’s nice, but nothing works better than to give himself, give his attention, full and undivided, give his time.

He’ll sit him on the couch when he gets restless, start a game of Smash bros, let him win (he doesn’t have to try too hard for that one, there’s a competitive streak in his best friend that doesn’t need much to be awakened). He’ll punch him on the shoulder then, lightly, for show, complain that he always loses, call him a wanker and not mean a word of it, listen to easy laughter with the satisfaction of doing things right.

Music helps, sometimes, he’ll play him Debussy or Mozart, watch him smile, wistful, eyes a bit hazy.

What works best, though, is just being silly. He knows, objectively, that most of their jokes are dumb. But they’re theirs, and they work. There’s nothing inherently funny in violas and recorders and triangles that go _‘ding ding_ ’, but god the smile on his face when they come up makes up for everything.

There’s a peacefulness, when the storm recedes, a quiet that resounds louder than any symphony. It’s like holding his hand all over again, seeing the stars after the clouds have gone. It’s the way his eyes clear and light up, the way he smiles like a child again. It’s the way he watches, full of wonder, says "I don’t thank you enough", suddenly, out of the blue, with something that looks like adoration in his eyes.

“Thank me for what?”

“For being there. For being you.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

They say that time erodes everything, but love is a harder rock to grind down.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a weird way to say thank you for the support, but it’s all I have. So thank you.


End file.
